


In fire and in blood.

by Kaesteranya



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-04
Updated: 2011-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-18 23:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaesteranya/pseuds/Kaesteranya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A boy's night out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In fire and in blood.

**Author's Note:**

> Another strange image written while ~~RPing smex~~ bugging people on Plurk. This is set exactly ten years after the story. The title is taken from the 31 Days theme for June 24, 2006.

“You’re late.”

 

Yamamoto Takeshi tells himself that he really should’ve expected that. He laughs a bit, lifts his eyes from his shoes, smiles. Gokudera Hayato, though, is already turning, walking away from him. Ten years down the line and he still moves the way he did back in middle school: quick, restless, brimming with too much unused energy. It’ll smooth out later, when they’re fighting.

 

It’s a scene out of one of those cheap action flicks that Squalo Superbi likes to bring over whenever he’s bored: weather-worn wharfs, dingy warehouses, starless sky, jellyfish moon, backdrop of a city too old to be clean but too young to be special. With their expensive suits and designer shoes, one would think that they didn’t belong there. People in this city, however, know the truth.

 

Yamamoto does not like to think before missions, but he finds himself doing that a lot these days. He could not remember the last time his mind had been clear: it must have been a few years back, during his last game in the professional circuit, against a driving wind and a high autumn sky. He’s been fighting for too long now, in the dead of night, between claustrophobic alleyways.

 

Just ahead of him, Gokudera is picking up the pace, tossing his cigarette, reaching into his suit, pressing the seal of a ring to a tiny little box. Yamamoto takes this as his cue to move. One glance, and they’re off in separate directions. He sees a flash through the corner of his eye and hears a low, sibilant growl just as he disappears around the next corner. Tomorrow, the couriers are going to come around and wonder if someone brought in a wild tiger to rip the guts out of those men up front. It wasn’t too far-fetched: strange things occurred in their city, and they knew better than to ask too many questions to the wrong people.

 

Yamamoto feels himself smile again. He feels around for the box in his pocket, runs his fingers over the grooves. It will be soon.

 

He knows that something’s not quite right the moment he steps in through the back: it’s too tense, too quiet, and there’s blood streaking the walls. He hesitates, then he looks at the stains again and sees a pattern, a rhythm to the way that people had died in there. A moment later he hears a bone-wrenching scream, followed by a sound similar to that of a blunt object smashing a watermelon open, and then silence. Two steps take him past the cargo boxes and out into the open, where Hibari Kyouya is moving, throwing a guy face-first into a wall by the sheer force of his strike, leaving a crimson splatter and dented concrete in his wake.

 

It’s vaguely fascinating, watching the former prefect fight. The guys against him, they’re about as human to him as those practice dummies Yamamoto cuts up regularly whenever he’s home for the weekend. Hibari doesn’t seem to move around them in as much as he seems to move _through_ them, turning them into obstructions that he’s out to dismantle, or spring boards through which he can reach the next obstacle and take it apart. _Everything can be used as a weapon:_ a common lesson, but it seems as though the Cloud Guardian of the Vongola was the only man who ever got it right.

 

Yamamoto fingers the box in his pocket again, then pulls his hand away. He leans against the wall, watching Hibari pop a man’s knee out, or spray a goon with his comrade’s bullets by swinging them into each other.

 

Might as well enjoy the show.

 

“So you’ve finally learned to stay out of my way, haven’t you?”

 

And Hibari’s coming towards him now, tonfa slick with another’s blood, wiping the back of his mouth with his sleeve. He stares right at Yamamoto, acknowledging him; a marked difference from their younger years. Yamamoto grins.

 

“Thanks for coming. We didn’t think you’d make it—”

 

“—much less steal our kills. Do you _always_ have to waltz in here, you freak?”

 

And Gokudera has entered the scene, three bombs short of a set and looking mightily pissed. Uni seems to share his master’s sentiments from where he’s curled about Gokudera’s legs. Hibari dismisses the tonfa with a careless gesture, eyeing the Storm Guardian with his trademark disdain.

 

“I do what I want.”

 

That’s not entirely true, Yamamoto is tempted to point out. The Tenth had asked Hibari to come. Of course, the Rain Guardian knows better than to push his luck, not with this one, not with Gokudera looking like he’s going to toss protocol out the window and take Hibari on.

 

“Well, we’re done here!” he says instead, with his usual easy smile. “And just in time for dinner too. The boss will be expecting us.”

 

It amuses him, how one mention of Sawada Tsunayoshi is enough to diffuse the situation and catch their attention. Yamamoto often takes the opportunity to tease Gokudera about this whenever they’re alone together, or in bed. He does not bother doing it with Hibari: he’s almost certain that he gets an earful on the matter from Dino Cavallone as it is.

 

“Hurry it up, Takeshi, we’re done here.”

 

And somehow, Yamamoto’s alone in the warehouse – Hibari’s walking off and Gokudera is in the entrance, tapping his foot, leveling him with a glare. He’s framed against the city lights: they catch the gleam of his piercings, just so.

 

Yamamoto laughs again and obeys. He’ll deal with his lover’s moods later.


End file.
